School Enemy [EN]

12 Years Old

As usual, I get out of bed and it is cold. I am greeted by the coldness of the house. And yet, it is spring; it isn’t even that cold outside, but it feels like it’s minus 5 degrees. As usual, I leave my chaotic home, the one I dream of escaping from, and head down the road to school. I pass a few classmates who are hugging and kissing their parents goodbye. Once I reach the school gate, where a teacher checks that all the students enter safely, I stand just beside her, but at a certain distance so I can have my own bubble, my privacy.

I wait, and wait, and wait some more. I’m used to arriving early so I can enjoy this moment of solitude. I can admire the cars, the children walking past me, and the life of the city all around me. But it also gives me time to wait for Blake, my best friend, and perhaps my only one. After spending several minutes outside with my coat on and my schoolbag in my hand, I hear the laughter and screams of children. There it is, rush hour, when all the parents drop their children off at the same time in the morning, and with them comes Blake. As soon as he sees me, he leaves the group of friends he was talking to and runs toward me to give me a big hug. I welcome him into my arms, happy to see him again, and then, among all the other students talking loudly about random things, he and I go into class.

Once the school’s entrance doors are open, he grabs my hand and drags me into a chase through several floors. Our school, which also serves as an elementary school, isn’t very big. There are three buildings in total, connected in the shape of a U. The two branches of the U are the elementary school and the middle school, while the building in the middle that connects them is the administrative section and cafeteria. As I wonder where we’re going, I recognize the doors leading to the administrative building and then to the elementary school building. Actually, between each of the buildings, there are simply doors of different colors to mark the separation.

Blake keeps making me run through the floors, but this time from one building to the one opposite it. Finally, after our frantic run, we arrive in a room that turns out to be the accessible bathroom on the second floor of the elementary school building. As Blake closes and locks the door, I slowly catch my breath and try to speak so I can understand what’s going on.

—Wow, what a chase. But what’s going on? Why are we going to the elementary school building? I ask.

Just from his mischievous look, I immediately understand. He has a new plan in mind. Blake and I are well known to the administration, and not in a good way. The two of us have pulled all sorts of stunts together simply for fun. So I recognize that look instantly. I know that whenever one of us gets that famous mischievous look, with an idea for causing trouble in mind, we can’t resist the temptation. The teachers had better watch out.

—Well, I might have an idea. There’s going to be a fair coming to town soon. And I’d really love to go there with you, he tells me with a smile. My mom told me the fair would only be here for a week, and my mom has a day off during the week it’s here. But since she said she wouldn’t let me skip school to go, we’re going to sabotage the school, he tells me determinedly.

I’m surprised. I know his mother, and she’s someone who works excessively. Most of the time Blake doesn’t even see her, and it’s his father who takes care of him, even though he is just as much of a workaholic. So it’s completely normal for Blake and me to be surprised that she has a day off during a week when she would normally have a lot of work. But honestly, I think like Blake: we have to take this opportunity. After all, we live in some tiny, forgotten town in the middle of the United States. Not much happens here except maybe new movies at the cinema, and even then, that’s only when the cinemas actually remember to ask the mayor for the movies. So knowing that a little fair is coming to town is an opportunity we can’t afford to miss.

—But wait a second. What exactly do you have in mind? I ask him.

—Me? Well, I was simply thinking that we could put your talents to good use, he says with a falsely dramatic expression.

—My talents? You know I have plenty of those, I say, playing along with the drama.

—Well, you’re good at science, aren’t you? he says, blinking several times in quick succession.

I can’t help snickering because our improvised little acting performance is becoming far too funny for me to hold back. Blake does the same.

—For my plan, I was thinking you could use some products to make the toilets explode. That way the whole school will explode, and they’ll say in the newspapers that it was a toilet apocalypse.

I have to admit that, when it came to the pranks and stupid things Blake and I had done together, from elementary school through middle school and maybe even all the way to high school, some of them had been quite ingenious. I sometimes think that if Blake and I spent all this time studying or working on certain subjects, we’d be considered geniuses. But what can you do? When you have a seed of evil inside you, you have to cultivate it all the way to the end just to see what kind of flower will grow.

—I think that if we manage to break into the janitors’ storage room, we can do whatever we want. But we need to cover our tracks, so I’ll take care of the products and you go get us some gloves.

—Got it. We’ll be the kings of toilet-apocalypse crime, Blake says gleefully.

As he unlocks the door and checks left and right to make sure nobody is in the hallway, he rushes toward the art classroom. Meanwhile, I run toward the administrative building, more specifically toward the cafeteria, where the janitors’ storage room is located. Once I reach the door and make sure I’m completely alone, I pull a hairpin and a lock-picking tool out of my pocket. With these two tools inserted into the lock, I easily manage to unlock it. I open the door slightly, checking that nobody is inside, then step in completely and open the door wide. And purely out of habit, I look everywhere to see if there is a hidden camera, a reflex I’ve had for as long as I can remember. I then look at the cupboard containing the cleaning products. Most of them have labels marked toxic and dangerous upon contact with skin. I take a few minutes to read the name of each product, then choose the ones whose chemical composition would be perfect for the toilet apocalypse.

I meet up with Blake, who has returned with two pairs of gloves. But when he tries to put them on, Blake realizes that he got the sizes wrong. He only brought small ones instead of large ones. So, even though we don’t have much time, I help him put on the gloves I was wearing, which are slightly larger than his. Although Blake is also twelve, he’s the size of a ten-year-old. And since I’m much taller than him, I love teasing him about his height. After finally putting on Blake’s gloves, which are far too small for my hands, we reach the moment when I pour in the mixture I’ve concocted. It was a mixture of several different products, so I knew exactly the right amount to make the pipes rust and disrupt the machinery installed in the basement. Blake stands beside me as I pour the famous liquid that will indeed cause an apocalypse for the plumbing professionals.

—So? So? Is it good? he asks.

—It’s done. I’ve poured all the product, and normally it’ll take effect in a few days.

—A few days? But it’s Friday. What if it doesn’t work until Sunday?

—Don’t worry, Blake. It’ll take at least three days, and by Monday at noon they’ll ask us to leave school and go home. And considering the concentration I used, it’ll last at least until next Friday.

—Awesome!

—We’d better get back to class, otherwise we’re going to get in trouble again.

Blake nods and takes off his gloves, throwing them into the trash. Then, without even checking whether anyone is outside like he did earlier, he rushes back to class. As for me, I flush the toilet and check that none of the product we just poured remains behind. Then, like Blake, I take off my gloves and throw them into the trash. I put the cleaning products back where they belong and clean everything up. No fingerprints, no crime. Then I close the door and lock it again using the same lock-picking tools. Once the door is locked, I rush back to class.

Blake got there long before me and explained that we had been at the nurse’s office because we weren’t feeling well.

Blake has the physical advantage on his side. With his little face and frail body, he looks like a sweet little schoolboy, cute and harmless, someone who wouldn’t hurt a fly. So whenever we disappear to prepare one of our plans, he’s the one who covers for both of us, and every time the teachers fall for it.

Our school day goes relatively well, although the teachers, watching us snicker in our corner like little demons, suspect that we’ve prepared something. Some of them even interrogate us in front of the entire class just to try to uncover a small part of our plan. And as usual, we say absolutely nothing and keep the secret, much to the teachers’ disappointment, as they were hoping that this time the prank wouldn’t be aimed at them.

When the bell rings, every child races down the stairs and heads home with a smile on their face, happy to finally be free from their painfully boring classes. Blake, meanwhile, meets his mother, who is waiting for him outside the school in her car. I say goodbye to him and politely greet his mother before leaving to go back to my house, the house I wish I never had to see again.

On the way home, of course, as usual, I prefer taking a detour to make my journey longer. So I spend the rest of my evening in the warehouse with the others. Then, when night falls and I have no other choice but to leave, I head back home. And when I arrive, opening that door I hate seeing open, I plunge back into my hell.

Finally, it’s Tuesday, the day Blake’s mother has off. She isn’t working, and as for us, we don’t have school again until next Friday. Our little product that we poured into the toilets did its job wonderfully, because all the plumbing throughout the school—the elementary school, administrative building, and middle school—has completely exploded. The product we poured really did rust the pipes and create holes, flooding certain areas. In others, particularly the bathrooms, it created a blockage with feces and other waste that had been flushed away, causing all the toilets to overflow and flood every classroom. Not to mention the faucets, where the water kept rising on its own, then going down, then rising again.

Of course, when Blake and I heard the news, we burst out laughing. The best part is that since the product was liquid and mixed with the water, it was quickly washed away, so there was no trace of our crime. Although I do feel a little sorry for the cleaning staff who will have to clean up after this catastrophe.

But here we are, Blake and I, in the back of his mother’s car as she drives the three of us to the fair. And contrary to what I had expected, the little fair is much bigger than I could ever have imagined. There are huge, gigantic rides that you normally only see in big cities, and apparently the fair managed to get permission to set up in the parking lot of the shopping center.

I should point out, because this is a little strange, that the parking lot is simply a flat paved area with white lines marking the parking spaces, and it’s at least a kilometer away from the shopping center. And yes, I know, the shopping center, that splendid building that’s at least four stories tall, is one kilometer away from the parking lot. Actually, the shopping center is located in an area filled with warehouses belonging to other businesses, so they weren’t lucky enough to have a parking lot right next to their store. They therefore had to build, at least one kilometer away, this square slab of asphalt.

But enough about the details. The fair is enormous and packed with people. We had to wait in line for at least fifteen minutes just to have a chance of getting inside. I think the whole town is gathered in one single place because we’re practically bumping into each other, and there isn’t a single place to sit that isn’t already occupied.

Even so, Blake, completely excited, walks ahead of us while his mother and I walk side by side behind him, looking left and right to make sure we’re safe.

Blake and I go on several children’s rides, including the bumper cars, a classic, and then some more thrilling attractions like the mirror maze and haunted house. To be honest, the mirror maze was my favorite. The point of the attraction is simply to go inside and navigate a maze made of mirrors. And, as you can imagine, Blake kept bumping into the glass like a little kid. Meanwhile, I was laughing so hard I was crying as I watched him try different methods to find the exit quickly, only to hurt himself more and more in the process.

But as we reach the exit, we discover a staircase, which is rather surprising. We climb all the way to the top and find a platform with the entrance to a slide at the far end. From where we are, the wind hits our faces—not very hard, admittedly, but enough for us to feel the height. From up there, we can easily see the entire fair.

Strangely, there isn’t a single adult there to make sure we don’t fall. So, either out of instinct or simply curiosity, I look down toward the entrance of the attraction and see Blake’s mother looking toward the entrance, impatiently tapping her foot.

From where I am, it’s almost amusing to see her looking so small, but also so insignificant.

But when Blake’s mother’s gaze drifts upward, I turn around so I can look in the opposite direction. I know I shouldn’t do that. I should meet her gaze, smile at her, wave, and then tell Blake that his mother is looking at us. But strangely, deep down, I don’t want to. It makes me nauseous. It stresses me out.

There’s nothing wrong with that, and yet...

I look at Blake, who’s standing in front of me, questioning me with his eyes. I simply tell him that I’m fine.

Then we squeeze into the slide together, pressed against each other. As we slide back down, I feel my legs becoming shaky.

But I recover fairly quickly because we reach the end. We slide onto a foam mat covered in a rather garish color. Then we rejoin his mother, who decides in an authoritative tone that we should go home now.

On the way back, she walks alongside us and asks:

—So, tell me, those problems at your school... I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with them, would you? she asks with a big smile.

—Come on, Mom, we would never do something like that, Blake says, also smiling widely and still caught up in the excitement.

—Hmm. You wouldn’t dare lie to me, would you?

—But we didn’t do anything. We’re innocent, Blake continues.

—Very well, because it is strange that it happened on the very day I’m off work and there’s a fair in town.

—Come on, like I told you, we have nothing to do with it. It’s simply a coincidence, he replies.

—Very well, very well. I give up.

Once we’re back in the car and on the way home, Blake and I talk about everything that happened throughout the day, reminiscing about the best moments. And we create new dreams together.

And I don’t know why, but I decide to meet the gaze of the person who’s made me feel watched ever since I got into the car. In the rearview mirror, her dark brown eyes are watching me with a kind of disdain or contempt.

So I look away and continue talking with Blake, at least until we arrive at his house.

When we arrive, Blake’s mother pulls up the handbrake and asks Blake to go inside while she talks to me. Slightly suspicious, Blake asks why and insists on staying with me. But his mother, in an authoritative tone, tells him to get out and go inside.

With the disappointed, puppy-dog expression of someone who has been scolded, but still obeying his mother, he gets out, says goodbye to me, and runs into the house.

So I’m left alone with his mother, who is staring at me in the rearview mirror. I had been wearing a smile, but it immediately disappears, replaced by a serious and distant expression, almost cold.

—You can guess why I asked you to stay and talk to me, can’t you? she begins.

—Yes. I think I know.

—Good. In that case, I won’t beat around the bush. I don’t want to see you with my son anymore. I think you understand why.

I don’t answer, simply because I already knew. She hates me. She doesn’t want me around her son. But she doesn’t know how much I need his light to survive in my darkness.

—And what if I refuse?

—You have to do it for him. After all, since that day... I just want my son to stay out of all this. You can understand that, can’t you?

—Are you saying that for him, or for yourself?

—How dare you? she says, growing increasingly angry. At least I’m not involved in all this. I don’t know exactly what you were doing that day, but it’s obvious that you’re a very bad influence on him.

—A bad influence? I think you’re getting the roles mixed up.

—Don’t start with that. I’m protecting him as his mother, and you are nothing to him. You’re just a classmate he has fun with from time to time. Because of you, he does whatever he wants at school and doesn’t even study. This is my final warning.

...

—Get out of my car, she says coldly.

I get out. It’s a little cold and windy, but the sky is blue and it’s somewhat warm. Normally, it’s pleasant weather, but it still feels freezing.

As I watch Blake’s mother walk away and go back inside her house, only one thought comes to mind:

You’re the one who means nothing to him if you keep this up.